Voices from the Past
by CaroH
Summary: Aramis and Athos are on a mission when they disappear without trace. A sequel to Hunter's Moon.
1. Chapter 1

This story is a sequel to Hunter's Moon and you will have to read it first otherwise this one won't make sense. It is told entirely from Aramis' point of view and contains Aramis and Athos whump but very little d'Artagnan and Porthos. It is set between episodes 2.7 and 2.8.

 **Voices from the Past**

 **Chapter One**

Aramis slit the belly of the trout, cleaned out the guts and impaled it on a stick. He handed it over to Athos who sat on the other side of the fire before turning his attention to the second fish. He leaned back against his saddle and held his supper over the flames. They were still three days from Paris, returning from a mission to deliver official letters to various provincial landowners. As those letters notified of an increase in taxes their arrival had proved to be most unwelcome. The King was too far away for retribution but his messengers could, and were, held accountable. They had left the last manor house hurriedly ahead of the Baron's dogs.

Once the fish was cooked Aramis brought out some bread from his saddlebags while Athos fetched a skin of wine. They were both relaxed and happy to be on their way home.

"I wonder if they ever found out the identity of the fake Princess Louise," Aramis mused.

"Unlikely. I'd be more interested in knowing who paid her to assassinate the King's council members. Whoever it was clearly didn't want her talking." The woman had been found dead from a stab wound in her cell only a few hours after her arrest.

"There is one obvious candidate." Aramis picked at his fish being careful not to burn his fingers.

"Rochefort," Athos said with distaste. "He is certainly the one who benefited most."

"First Minister of France." Aramis drank from the flask, wiping his hand across his mouth. "We should have let those villagers hang him."

The sides of Athos' mouth turned up in the smallest of smiles. "It would have made our life easier and perhaps Treville wouldn't have lost his position as Captain."

"It's surprising that the King hasn't appointed someone new. I'm sure Rochefort will have someone in mind."

"Yes. One of his lackey's no doubt."

"Why can't the King see him for the snake he is?"

"He knows how to be in the right place at the right time. It was a masterstroke being the one to kill Marmion. Now that's all the King remembers…that and the fact that the Musketeers allowed him to be taken prisoner by a madman."

"He still blames us for being kidnapped by slavers too," Aramis said gloomily. "Sometimes I think we are doomed."

"Don't forget the Archbishop being assassinated while we stood a few feet away."

"Nothing has gone right lately. Even the Queen can't get close to the King now."

"That is concerning. She has always been a stabilizing influence on him. With Rochefort whispering in his ear who knows what he'll do." Athos finished his food and laid down his plate.

"It was Rochefort's idea to raise the taxes." Aramis passed the wineskin to Athos. "Said the treasury needs funds in case of war with Spain."

"He's not entirely wrong. War's an expensive business."

"Spain, as far as I can see, has done nothing to alienate France yet war is all the people talk about. Anti-Spanish sentiment is rife in Paris although the streets are quieter since Emilie disbanded her host."

"You still feel guilt?" Athos looked at him searchingly. "You were only doing your duty."

Aramis sighed heavily. "I know. I can't help feeling that I ruined her life."

"Her mother did that. How would you have felt if she'd led that rabble into battle? They would all have been slaughtered. You saved them."

"Perhaps." Aramis lapsed into silence, his fingers caressing his crucifix.

"Every faction in a war believes that God is on their side. It is a convenient fallacy to convince the gullible to fight."

"Some causes are just."

"The quest to wrestle land from another country is not just. Neither is slaughtering innocents in the name of religion. Surely there is enough room in this world for people of different faiths."

"Catholicism is the one true faith," Aramis said. "At least that was what I was brought up to believe. Now, I think everyone finds their own path to God." He raised his eyes to gaze at Athos, knowing that his friend held no belief in a divine being. Too many bad things had happened to allow him to believe in a loving and forgiving father. "Perhaps one day you will find your way."

Athos drank deeply before setting the wineskin aside. "You have enough belief for both of us, my friend."

The fire was burning low when they settled down for the night. It was midsummer and warm so both shed their weapons and coats before lying back on their bedrolls. Aramis lay on his back with one arm under his head and gazed at the stars. It was sublimely peaceful, unlike at the garrison where it never seemed to be entirely silent. There were always people on the streets, drunks, footpads and honest folk who worked late into the night or rose before the sun. He closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

He came awake to the sound of a pistol being cocked and the cold metal of the barrel pressing against his temple. His right hand automatically sought out his sword, stilling when the weapon was pushed even harder into his skin.

"Don't," an unfamiliar voice told him.

The gun was removed and the man holding it walked into Aramis' line of sight. He squinted at him, trying to make sense of the situation. The man looked to be in his twenties with straggly light brown hair and a scar on his cheek. Efforts to grow a moustache had produced a fuzz on his upper lip.

Aramis sat up and looked towards where Athos had been sleeping. His friend was awake, also held at gunpoint and looking furious.

"What is the meaning of this?" Athos asked. "We are King's Musketeers and to attack us is treason."

"Shut up," the man guarding Athos advised.

"If you are looking for money you have come to the wrong place," Aramis said.

"Oh, you're worth plenty of money."

Aramis turned his head to look at the newcomer and had to stifle a gasp. The last time he had seen Bastien Hebert the man had been hauled off to prison charged with an offence that should have seen him hung.

"You were in prison," Aramis said.

"I told you that I have many friends," Hebert said. "The jailors are not incorruptible."

"What do you want?" Athos asked.

"Your friend and I have unfinished business."

Aramis tensed. Hebert had been hired by the Duke of Savoy to kill him. If this was to be an execution he was badly placed to fight back.

"Put these on." Hebert slung a pair of shackles at Aramis who made no move to pick them up. "You too." Another pair landed at Athos' feet.

"I don't think so," Athos said.

"Or I could have Patrice shoot you and leave your body for the vultures," Hebert said. "My orders are only to take him." He gestured towards Aramis.

"Where are we going?" It was a relief to know that he wasn't in immediate danger of dying. However, any thoughts he might have harboured about a swift escape were dashed when two more men entered the clearing.

Patrice held his gun to Athos' head and Hebert kicked the shackles closer to Aramis.

"If you want your friend to see the sunrise you'll do as you're told."

"Aramis, don't."

Patrice drew back the gun and struck Athos' temple with the barrel. Athos swayed but managed to cling on to consciousness. Aramis reached for the chains closing one shackle around his left wrist and the other around his right. He didn't move while Hebert used the key to lock them.

Athos was too stunned to protest when Patrice secured his wrists and hauled him to his feet. He was prodded forward, passing Aramis at a stumbling walk. Hebert hunkered down to stare into Aramis' face.

"He's my security for your good behaviour. Do as you're told and he will live. Give me any trouble and he's dead. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." Aramis rose to his feet and obediently followed Athos. He had a bad feeling about where they were being taken but any attempt to escape now would be suicidal. They would have to watch and wait until an opportunity presented itself.

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Voices from the Past**

 **Chapter Two**

They were herded into the back of a wagon where their ankles were chained. Aramis looked in concern at his companion. Athos was leaning heavily against the wooden side of their conveyance, his eyes unfocussed. He scooted closer and raised a hand to the side of Athos' head causing his friend to hiss sharply and jerk backwards.

"Let me see," Aramis said.

Athos didn't fight him as he carefully probed the graze left by the barrel of the gun. That of itself was enough to worry him. His ministrations were usually met with a demand to be left alone.

"Everything seems to be in its proper place. I expect you'll have a headache though."

Athos grimaced in response and peered at Aramis through half-lidded eyes. "Why did you do it?"

Aramis sighed. "We were outnumbered and if I had resisted you would be dead."

"Two against five isn't bad odds." Athos looked at his shackles with distaste. "At least they weren't."

"They had us at a disadvantage. We could not have fought back and prevailed. There will be other opportunities." He settled back, his body swaying in time to the uneven movement of the cart.

Hebert rode in front of the wagon which had a guard as well as a driver on the bench seat. The other two men rode behind them. All looked alert and ready for trouble. Realistically their prospects for escape were very limited.

"Where do you think they're taking us?" Athos asked.

"Hebert mentioned money so this was no opportunistic kidnapping," Aramis mused. "We are heading south and I only know of one man who would pay for the pleasure of my company."

"Savoy."

"I'm sorry, my friend. It appears my unwise words to the Duke have resulted in far reaching consequences."

"You owe me no apology. Although I wish you hadn't confronted him I understand why you did."

"None the less it was my actions that have led us to this," Aramis said contritely.

"I thought he wanted you dead."

"Perhaps he wants to be the one to kill me." The Duke carried the scar from the wound Aramis had inflicted during the massacre. That alone would make him thirsty for revenge.

"We will find a way to escape," Athos said although he didn't sound entirely convinced.

Athos lapsed into silence after that, sitting with his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face. Aramis settled back as comfortably as he could thinking back to the day when he'd faced the Duke and revealed that he had been present at the massacre. They had assumed the Duke had given up his vendetta after they defeated Hebert and his men. It appeared they were wrong although their situation made little sense to him. If the Duke wanted his death there were easier ways to achieve it. Hebert could have killed them instead of taking them prisoner. It was a puzzle but Aramis was grateful for the fact that he hadn't been summarily executed.

The sun began to rise and with it the evidence Athos was suffering from a vicious headache. His eyes were screwed tightly shut and the motion of the cart was making him look pale and queasy.

"We need to stop," Aramis called.

Hebert reined in his horse, waiting for the wagon to catch up. He looked dispassionately at Athos. "We have no time for delays."

"Then your man shouldn't have been so quick to injure him."

"Ten minutes."

"Water?" Aramis asked. The day was growing hotter and dehydration wouldn't help Athos' recovery.

Hebert unhooked a water skin from his saddle and tossed it to Aramis. "Don't take advantage of my good nature," he said with a sneer.

Knowing Hebert's reputation was no comfort. He was entirely without conscience and responsible for the deaths of men, women and children. He would kill Athos without any qualms and wouldn't hesitate to inflict violence on them both if they defied his orders.

The man driving the cart pulled the horses to a standstill and Aramis moved closer to Athos. "Can you open your eyes?"

"Yes." The terse reply was accompanied by a slight movement of Athos' eyelids.

Aramis waited patiently until his friend's green eyes were focussed on him. He offered the water which Athos drank slowly. He began to look a little better although his movements were sluggish.

"I don't think they hit you hard enough to cause a concussion so the symptoms should pass soon."

"They would pass quicker if I could lie down on something that isn't moving," Athos groused. "Any idea where we are?"

"We seem to be heading towards Estaing. At the speed we're travelling it is going to take more than a week to reach Savoy."

"We won't be missed for at least another three days." Athos scowled as the horses were urged back into motion. "Even when we are, they won't find it easy to pick up our trail."

Aramis didn't comment. They both knew there was no trail to follow. They had been snatched miles away from Paris and even if their friends backtracked they wouldn't find any sign of them.

"It's down to us to find a way to escape," Athos said, echoing Aramis' thoughts.

"Unless they remove our chains our chances are slim." Aramis pulled irritably on the shackles. His chafed wrists immediately protested the movement.

"You can't give up."

"I'm not." Whatever fate held in store for him he was determined that Athos would survive and find freedom. He would go down on his knees before the Duke and beg if necessary.

Their slow journey continued while the sun rose higher in the sky. Athos drifted off to sleep leaving Aramis alone with his thoughts. He hadn't seen the Duke since revealing his knowledge of Savoy's guilt. Shortly after there had been another assassination attempt which came very close to succeeding. Aramis had been hauled before the King, accused of the crime and eventually exonerated. He had been kept away from Savoy after that and the Duke had left Paris as soon as he was sufficiently recovered.

Their route eventually took them parallel to a steam where Hebert called a halt. Athos came awake slowly although he had more colour in his face.

"Out," Hebert ordered.

Aramis moved clumsily to the back of the wagon and dropped to the ground. One of Hebert's men pushed him forwards and he stumbled thanks to the short chain between his ankles, falling heavily to his knees.

"Get up."

A blow to his upper back rocked him forwards.

"Leave him alone," Athos shouted.

There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Aramis winced in sympathy. "It's alright," he said, struggling back to his feet. He was ready for the next shove which propelled him towards a tree.

"Sit."

He did as he was told, followed shortly by Athos who had the beginnings of a bruise on his jaw.

"Don't antagonise them," Aramis said wearily, resting his back against the rough bark.

Chunks of bread and cheese were dropped in their laps. They ate quietly while two men stood guard. They were just out of range of the Musketeers' reach and each held a pistol loosely at his side. Aramis could sense Athos' frustration with their situation and their inability to do anything to change it.

When they had finished eating Hebert walked over and gestured to Aramis to rise. "We will shortly be going through a town and I can't allow you to draw attention to yourselves. Hold out your hands."

Aramis could feel Athos' disapproving stare boring into him as he followed Hebert's instructions. The left shackle was unlocked. He looked towards his friend and found that the guard had moved closer, his pistol now pointed at Athos.

"Hands behind your back," Hebert ordered.

Aramis clearly didn't move quickly enough because Hebert's arm swung out and connected solidly with his stomach. He doubled over, gasping for breath and felt his arms being wrenched backwards. The cold metal closed around his wrist again. Before he could straighten up a cloth was shoved into his mouth and tied around his head, silencing him.

He heard Athos protesting vigorously while he struggled to regulate his breathing. It was surprisingly difficult now that he could only breathe through his nose and it took longer than he liked before he could stand up and see what was happening. Athos was being held by two men while his bonds were adjusted. Blows rained down on his head and shoulders while he struggled ineffectually.

Aramis tried to step forward, his complaints completely muffled by the gag. A hand on his arm held him in place while Hebert's men finished with Athos. As soon as he too was silenced they were dragged to the wagon and thrown into the back. A short length of chain was looped around their shackles and anchored to the cart, preventing them from moving from a prone position. Then a tarpaulin was draped over them, hiding them from sight. They were left in the suffocating darkness as the cart moved forward again.

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Voices from the Past**

 **Chapter Three**

The sounds in the cart seemed amplified now that they were completely enclosed. The creaking of the wheels accompanied the jerky movement forward. The air began to grow hotter. More worrying than their present predicament though was the laboured quality of Athos' breathing. The beating they had subjected him to would have exacerbated his already injured head and the gag would be constricting his breathing.

He tried to wriggle closer, growling in frustration when he was pulled up short after only a few inches. The darkness stopped him from having a clear view of Athos' face but his friend's distress was obvious. He closed his eyes and silently cursed the Duke of Savoy.

The movement of the cart became smoother suggesting they were now on a paved road. Aramis started to hear voices outside their prison. He struggled furiously against his chains, trying to call for help but he was too well muzzled. He heard a slight rattling of chains from the opposite side of the cart and knew that Athos was also trying fruitlessly to attract attention.

The slow journey continued and Aramis' frustration grew with each yard they travelled. Eventually the sounds from outside died down and they moved from the paved roadway to a track. He was bounced around, his head more than once hitting the side of the cart. The air was hot and heavy, bathing him in sweat.

When they stopped and the tarpaulin was pulled back he had to turn his head away from the sudden brightness. Once his vision cleared he looked at Athos and wasn't encouraged by what he saw. His friend was pale and sweating but his eyes still blazed with fury. Hebert leaned over the side of the cart and looked at them critically. Aramis' chest continued to heave with the effort of breathing.

"Remove their gags and let them sit up," Hebert ordered.

Aramis sighed with relief as the saliva soaked cloth was removed from his mouth. When the chain attaching him to the cart was unlocked he shuffled closer to Athos. "Are you alright?"

Athos licked his lips and nodded, wincing at the movement. With his hands tethered behind his back there was nothing Aramis could do to assist his friend. He waiting until they were moving again before speaking.

"Stop fighting them. They will only injure you further."

"I'm not going to let them take you to the Duke."

"It appears we have very little choice." Their captors had planned this well and Aramis had no confidence that they would give them any opportunity to escape.

They entered a wooded area which had the benefit of getting them out of the direct sunlight. Aramis felt the sweat on his back and chest begin to dry. The reprieve lasted less than an hour before they emerged from the trees into a gently sloping meadow. The sun beat down on their heads and Aramis began to miss his hat. His shirt was stuck to his body and rivulets of moisture ran down his face. They stopped briefly about mid-afternoon and were given water. It was tepid but very welcome and Aramis drank greedily.

They camped that night in the shelter of a rock face. Aramis and Athos sat under guard while the camp was set up. One man collected sticks and lit a fire while another tended to the horses. Hebert walked over, smiling at their sullen looks.

"You are wondering how you will escape," he said. "Don't waste your time. You are too valuable to be allowed any freedom, but don't think that will save you from a beating if you give me any trouble."

"You are taking us to Savoy," Aramis said.

"The Duke is very anxious to see you again. What did you do to upset him?"

"I failed to die."

Hebert laughed and walked away, ordering Patrice to go and catch their supper. While they waited Athos' head dropped lower until it was resting on Aramis' shoulder. He adjusted his position so that his friend could rest more comfortably. They sun was dipping toward the horizon by the time Patrice returned with a brace of rabbits which he began to skin and butcher, dropping the pieces into a pot of water over the fire.

Hebert returned with the key for the shackles. Athos looked up but didn't resist when one hand was freed and then refastened in front of him. When Aramis was likewise granted that meagre amount of freedom he rotated his shoulders, groaning at the stiffness in them from hours of being uncomfortably bound. At least the strain was less now.

"How do you feel?" he asked Athos.

"The headache is lessening. I have some bruises but nothing that would slow me down."

"We have to face reality, my friend. We are going to Savoy and I fear our chances of escaping before we arrive are non-existent."

"We just need them to make one mistake," Athos said fiercely.

Aramis shook his head. "We both know that isn't going to happen."

"If the chance comes will you take it?"

"Of course. I have no more wish than you to be brought before the Duke."

They were each given a bowl of stew and even a flask of wine to share. Aramis drank sparingly, wanting to keep a clear head in case the opportunity to escape presented itself. He lay by the fire listening to the sounds of the camp settling for the night. One man was left on guard duty, sitting on a boulder about twenty feet away from where he and Athos lay. Sleep was elusive. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars. Truth be told he was afraid of closing his eyes. The ghosts of Savoy had been haunting his thoughts all day and he didn't want these men to see him in the grip of a nightmare. He turned onto his side and, shortly after, felt the comforting warmth of Athos at his back. His living brother's presence would chase away the ghosts of his dead brethren. His eyelids grew heavy and he slipped gently into sleep.

The next few days followed the same pattern. If they had to travel through a town they were gagged and hidden away. Otherwise they sat in the back of the cart watching the changing landscape. Athos continued to be uncooperative but no longer provoked their captors into violence. They rode mainly in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. They would have been missed by now and Aramis could imagine the desperation growing ever greater as Porthos and d'Artagnan hunted for them. How long would it be before they gave up? Would news of their fate ever reach Paris?

Aramis was also plagued by the realisation that they were growing ever closer to the forest where the massacre had taken place. He prayed that they wouldn't make camp in that fateful glade but as the fifth day ended he knew that his prayers had not been heard.

"What's the matter?" Athos asked. "You've gone very pale."

Aramis' mouth was dry and he no longer felt the sun on his skin. He was seeing the light snowfall that had greeted their arrival at the border. He sat frozen in place even when Hebert ordered them from the cart. A blow to the side of his head made his ears ring but still he didn't move. Another blow fell and then another. He barely felt them. His eyes darted around while he imagined the red stain of blood marring the pristine whiteness of the snow. A hand gripped his arm and began to shake him.

"Aramis! What's wrong?" There was momentary silence before Athos spoke again and now his voice was filled with anger. "God damn you," he shouted. "You've brought him back to the scene of the massacre."

Tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Voices from the Past**

 **Chapter Four**

It was Athos' voice that coaxed him back. He blinked multiple times to clear the visions from his eyes. He found he was looking at a sun-dappled glade in which no bodies lay. He shivered against the memory of snow on his fever bright skin and tentatively raised his bound hands to the side of his head where he had been injured. When he caught sight of Athos' face he began to relax. His friend looked deeply concerned and he gave a wan smile in a vain attempt to assuage that worry.

"What's wrong with him?" Hebert asked.

"You really have no idea?" Athos growled furiously. "Why are we stopping here? There's several hours of daylight left."

"It was the Duke's orders. He said we had to camp here."

"He wants me to suffer," Aramis said quietly. He drew in a shuddering breath and faced Hebert. "Six years ago I led a training mission. There were twenty-two of us. In the early hours of the morning on Easter Sunday we were attacked. Twenty Musketeers died and this is where it happened. The raiding party was led by the Duke of Savoy."

"We could move on," Athos begged.

"The Duke's paying well for us to follow orders. Get out of the cart."

Although Athos looked mutinous he did as he was told. Aramis followed him slowly. The movement caused the shackles to rub against his deeply abraded wrists and he hissed sharply. His legs almost buckled under him when he hit the ground and only Athos' hand on his arm kept him upright. His demons were back in full force. Every inch of the glade brought back memories of blood and death.

"I thought I was going to die here," he said once they were sitting down. "Marsac was gone and my head injury was severe. I sat over there." He pointed to a spot a few yards away. "I waited for death to claim me."

"But you survived."

Aramis knew that Athos didn't know the whole story and that he deserved to hear it. "It was cold, which I think helped. It slowed the blood flow from my wound. I could barely stand though and walking any distance was out of the question. At first I cursed Marsac for leaving me, then I accepted it was God's will that I die with my brothers."

"What happened?" Athos moved closer so that their shoulders were touching.

"I waited all day. When it grew dark I knew I wouldn't survive the night. Two poachers found me. They could have left me and moved on but they were good men. They took me to their home. I remember very little until Treville arrived. We…we took the bodies back to Paris and buried them with full military honours." His eyes grew bright with unshed tears. "They were all so young. Most had just earned their commissions. Their whole lives lay ahead of them."

"They were soldiers," Athos reminded him.

"Yes." He bowed his head to hide his distress.

"Will you be alright?"

"I don't know," Aramis replied honestly. "I don't think I can sleep here, not without the nightmares returning."

"Then we will remain awake together."

When the camp settled for the night Athos and Aramis remained sitting against a tree. Their guard watched them warily but didn't interfere. As night fell Aramis' breathing became more uneven.

"The massacre was my fault," he said in halting tones. "I was the senior Musketeer present and decided not to post a guard."

"You had no reason to expect trouble."

"And now my inattention has condemned you to a captivity you don't deserve. I am the one the Duke wants."

"You are not to blame."

"At least there will be no more opportunities to let my brothers down," he said sadly.

Athos reacted angrily to that. "You are giving up?"

"We must face the truth, Athos. Tomorrow we will arrive at the palace and the Duke will take his revenge. I have made my peace with that."

"Well I haven't."

"Your passion does you credit." Aramis looked sorrowfully at his friend. "I will beg for your life. The Duke has no reason to kill you."

"I humiliated him in front of the King and Cardinal. I doubt if he has forgotten that."

Aramis bowed his head, acknowledging Athos' words. "I regret not having the chance to say goodbye to Porthos and d'Artagnan. I hope Captain Treville stops them from seeking revenge."

"Do you really believe they will let this pass?"

"Then I have condemned all my brothers."

"The guilt lies with the Duke of Savoy, not you."

"The result is the same. If he releases you I want your promise that you will return to Paris and persuade Porthos and d'Artagnan to leave well alone. I can die easier knowing you are all safe."

"No-one is dying."

Aramis let the subject drop and concentrated on his breathing. As the night grew darker he found he was flinching at every sound, looking around wildly, half expecting the Duke and his men to come swarming out of the trees. The fire began to die down leaving only the moon and stars to provide some meagre light. He was on the edge of panic and didn't know how to step back from the brink.

"I wonder what changes Rochefort has made to the King's council," Athos said, leaning more firmly against Aramis.

Aramis licked dry lips and forced his thoughts away from the night of the massacre, grateful to Athos for a different topic to consider. "I'm sure he plans to rule without interference. He does not work well with others."

"You are probably right. Apart from the King and Queen he hasn't made any effort to make friends."

"I worry about Treville."

"He says he's ready to retire but soldiering has been his whole life. I can't see him doing anything else."

"He should have accepted the King's offer of a council position." The tight knot in his stomach had finally started to unravel.

"I understand why he didn't. He's no politician."

"I can't imagine serving under anyone other than the Captain." He was still surprised that he had found it so easy to forgive Treville for his part in the massacre but he had been a soldier all his adult life and understood the concept of following orders. Thoughts of Treville dragged his mind inexorably back to the events of six years ago. He began to tremble.

"Porthos and d'Artagnan will be looking for us," Athos said.

"They won't think to look here."

"They might. It hasn't been so long since the Duke last threatened your life."

"I wish I shared your optimism."

He could no longer hold back the memories. Even with his eyes wide open the ghosts came. Accusing faces in the moonlight, asking how he had survived while they had died. He could feel Athos' hand on his arm, anchoring him to the present, although it was a pale thing compared to the surge of his emotions. The Duke wanted him to suffer and was getting his wish. He replayed that night over and over in his mind as the moon rose and meandered its slow course across the sky. He sagged against his brother, shaking so hard that he could feel the vibrations in Athos' body. He whimpered and felt Athos tightening his grip.

"Why did God spare me?" he whispered.

"That is one of the mysteries of life," Athos replied, his voice steady and soothing. "Try to sleep. I will be here to watch over you."

His body rebelled against the idea of sleep although he did burrow closer to Athos, feeling his friend's steadying presence sooth his fears. He glanced at their guard who was watching them with unconcealed satisfaction. When he tried to pull away in his embarrassment, Athos pulled him back whispering soft words until he began to relax. They remained like that for the rest of the night and, when the sky began to lighten, Aramis relinquished his grip on consciousness and slid into a light doze.

A boot connecting with his leg brought him back to full awareness. "It's time for breakfast." Patrice held out two bowls which contained a thin porridge.

Aramis took his and then immediately set it aside. His stomach was too unsettled to cope with food, particularly something so unappetising. When he looked at Athos he could see how exhausted his friend was and guilt assailed him. "I am sorry, my friend. I kept you awake."

"It isn't the first time I've had a sleepless night." Athos ate unenthusiastically, grimacing with every mouthful of the bland slop.

Normally Hebert was keen to be on his way in the morning but this day he seemed content to take his time. He walked over to them and looked at Aramis critically. "How is it that twenty Musketeers died and you survived? Are you a coward who ran and hid while the fighting was going on?"

Athos immediately stiffened, his face a mask of fury. "Aramis is no coward."

"It's a fair question," Hebert continued never taking his eyes from Aramis' face.

"I fought their leader and was injured," Aramis said. "One of the other Musketeers dragged me to safety."

"You watched your friends die and did nothing to help them."

Aramis bent his head and studied his hands. "Yes."

"Well, you'll be joining them soon enough."

Aramis was only vaguely aware of Hebert leaving. His cheeks blazed with the shame of his admission. He and Marsac had stayed hidden instead of trying to help the others. The fact that he had barely been conscious was no bar to his feelings of guilt. They should have done more. He couldn't bring himself to look at Athos, knowing he would only see condemnation in the other man's eyes.

"You have nothing to reproach yourself for," Athos said. "You were wounded and outnumbered. There was nothing to gain in throwing away your life on a hopeless cause."

"If I had died that night you would be safely back in Paris."

"Listen to me, Aramis. I would never trade our brotherhood for safety. My life would be far emptier if you had never come into it."

"You mean that?" He looked up hopefully.

"With all my heart."

Shortly afterwards they were loaded in the cart and continued on the final stage of their journey. Aramis looked back as they left the glade. He had faced his demons and survived thanks to the steadying presence of Athos. Now he had to face the Duke of Savoy and he did not believe he would survive that encounter.

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Voices from the Past**

 **Chapter Five**

The rhythmic movement of the cart soon sent Aramis into a deep sleep. If he dreamed he had no memory of it when he slowly woke to find that they had stopped. He squinted up at the sun which was now high in the sky before looking around. Athos was leaning against the side of the cart with his eyes closed. For the first time in days Aramis saw people passing by, staring at them curiously. He straightened up and peered ahead. Hebert was talking to two men wearing the insignia of the Duke of Savoy. After a few minutes one of the men walked over, his cold gaze sweeping over them.

"I was told to expect one prisoner. Who is the other?"

"Another Musketeer. He has been useful for keeping this one in line." Hebert gestured towards Aramis.

"The Duke won't be pleased."

"We can take him with us when we leave and dispose of him," Hebert offered.

Aramis' stomach clenched in fear as he waited for the soldier's answer.

"His Grace will decide what to do with him. Follow us."

They started moving again and were soon approaching the Ducal Palace. Compared to the Louvre it was a modest structure, two storeys high and rectangular in shape. They passed through a gate in the encircling wall, entering a courtyard situated between the main building and the carriage house.

"Take them round the back," the soldier instructed.

By this time Athos had also roused and was scanning their surroundings carefully. A carriage approached from the opposite direction, passing them and then stopping. Aramis stared at it, noticing that someone had pulled back the curtains on the window. Almost immediately the door opened and a servant hurried to assist a woman to disembark. The middle-aged lady walked over to speak to their escort.

"Her Grace wishes to know the identity of your prisoners."

Aramis' eyes widened in surprise. He had only seen the Duchess once from a distance during her last visit to Paris and so she was unlikely to recognise him. However, she had met Athos on more than one occasion. If she learnt that they were Musketeers would she risk her husband's wrath to send word back to Paris of their captivity?

"They are failed assassins brought here to face the Duke's justice. They conspired to kill the Duke during his visit to King Louis."

"They are Frenchmen?" the woman asked.

"Yes."

Aramis frowned but didn't have time to pursue his thoughts before he and Athos were being ordered to get out of the cart. He saw that Athos was staring fixedly at the carriage until one of the guards struck him across the face.

"Show some respect to the Duchess and lower your eyes."

The lady-in-waiting returned to the carriage which immediately pulled away. Once they had left the cart one of Hebert's men approached with the key to their leg irons. Aramis' relief at having them removed was short lived as they were immediately hustled inside and down a flight of stairs to the basement. A heavy wooden door was unlocked. Beyond the door was a large cell containing four mattresses and a bucket in one corner for their personal needs. There were no windows.

"You can remove their shackles."

Hebert stepped forward and unlocked their chains. Aramis rubbed at the abrasions on his wrists, delighted to be free of the restraints after five miserable days.

"Make yourselves comfortable," one of the guards sneered. "The Duke's away hunting and isn't due back for two days."

They were left alone with only a lantern to provide light. Aramis wearily dropped onto one of the mattresses. "Do you think the Duchess recognised you?" he asked.

"It's possible, but even if she did there's no guarantee she will help."

"Did you hear what they said about an assassination attempt?"

Athos also sat. "The Duke never accepted the decision of the King that you were innocent. I heard him berating Louis for what he called a travesty of justice."

"So that's why I'm here. I thought he simply wanted to finish what he started all those years ago. Instead I am to pay for a crime I didn't commit. He will never accept my word that I didn't pull the trigger."

"I will speak on your behalf."

"Do you really think you will get the opportunity? Even if I am given a trial we both know what the verdict will be. He plans to hide behind the law when ordering my execution."

"There is no evidence against you."

Aramis gave a bitter laugh. "You think that will stop him?"

"Then we must trust in the Duchess to send word to Treville."

They waited for two days. Meagre rations were provided twice a day. Other than that they were left alone. It had been a week since their capture and in that time they had only been permitted to wash occasionally so that both of them were dirty, dishevelled and odorous. Aramis was at the point where he would happily have sold his soul for a hot bath.

It was hard to keep track of the hours so Aramis was surprised when the cell door opened not long after they had been fed. They both stood up warily as three men entered the room. The leader pointed at him.

"The Duke has returned. You will come with us."

Athos opened his mouth to complain but Aramis shook his head in warning. "I will be alright," he said.

He submitted to having his hands bound behind his back, biting his lower lip as the rope rubbed against the deep grazes that had been caused by the shackles. Athos watched him somberly. Neither knew if they would see one another again. A hand on his arm encouraged him to move but he couldn't resist looking back over his shoulder in what might be his last glimpse of his brother.

They left the cell and climbed the stairs to the main level. He was guided down a series of hallways until they reached a set of double doors with two guards standing in front of them. They opened the doors and he found himself entering the Duke's throne room. Duke Victor sat on the throne, watching Aramis with predatory intensity. The only other person in the room was Gontard, the Duke's First Minister who stood on his right side.

Aramis was pushed forward and forced to his knees. He raised his head proudly determined not to cower before the man responsible for the death of his brothers.

The Duke leaned forward. "Not so confident now, Musketeer."

Aramis gazed at him steadily and held his tongue.

"You might have fooled Louis into believing you were innocent but I know the truth."

"You are mistaken."

One of the guard stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face. "No-one said you could speak."

He felt a trickle of blood start in the corner of his mouth as a result of inadvertently biting the inside of his cheek.

"You will confess your guilt and beg for my mercy," the Duke continued.

"Are you planning to show mercy?" A second blow rocked his head to the side.

"Confess and your death will be quick."

"I have committed no crime against you."

"Your stubbornness will avail you nothing. Take him back to his cell. Take this time to reflect upon your sins. Tomorrow you will be questioned again and it won't be so gentle."

He was hauled to his feet. "Wait," he begged. "You hold one of my brother's captive. He plays no part in the animosity between us. Will you give me your word that he will be set free?"

"I bear him no ill will. He is a fierce opponent but his victory against me was fairly won. If he will give me his word that he won't seek retribution for your death he can go free."

"Thank you." Now, all he had to do was persuade Athos.

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Warning for whump and neither of the boys escapes unscathed.

 **Voices from the Past**

 **Chapter Six**

Athos wasn't known as a demonstrative man so Aramis was surprised to find himself engulfed in a tight hug the minute he was shoved back in the cell.

"I feared that I would never see you again," Athos said as he released him.

"As you can see I am quite well."

Athos peered at him in the inadequate light from the lantern. "Did they hurt you?"

"Nothing of consequence although I fear tomorrow will be a different story."

"Why?"

"The Duke believes I shot him and wants a confession. He doesn't much care how he gets it." Aramis sat wearily on one of the mattresses.

"He would torture you until you confess to a crime you didn't commit?"

"He has no reason to believe my plea of innocence. It is, after all, what he would have done if our roles were reversed. However, I also bear good news."

"Nothing about this is good."

"You are to be released."

"I won't leave you," Athos asserted strongly.

"I doubt the Duke would be foolish enough to let you go prior to my…death. And, there is a condition. You must give your word that you won't seek revenge."

"I can't do that." Athos sat beside him, his mouth set in a hard line.

"You must. The Duke is untouchable. Killing him would only give Spain the opening they need to invade and that would be disastrous for France."

"You can't ask me to choose between you and my country," Athos said, anguished.

"There is no choice. You swore an oath to our King and that comes before anything."

Aramis knew that he had won although he wasn't proud of using Athos' honour against him. All that mattered was that Athos would go free.

They came for him the next day, holding Athos at bay while they dragged him from the cell. He was taken to a large empty room. Shortly after the Duke arrived with Gontard hovering in his shadow.

"Begin," the Duke said.

There were three muscular soldiers, each easily as big as Porthos. Aramis circled away from them, not wanting to become trapped against a wall. The largest of the three stalked towards him with a truly intimidating smile on his face.

"You're wasting your time," Aramis said. "I didn't shoot you." Although he was starting to wish that he had.

His retreat was cut off by another of the men so he dropped into a fighting stance and lashed out at his opponent. It felt like he'd hit a wall. The retaliatory blow was quick to follow. He raised his arm to defend his face. The soldier's punch connected with it and his arm went numb. He took an involuntary step backwards which brought him within reach of the second soldier. Merciless hands closed on his arms, dragging them backwards.

The next blow connected with his stomach, forcing the air violently from his lungs. A second punch followed before he could catch his breath. He began to wheeze as his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. His assailant stepped back, waiting for him to straighten up. He began to struggle against the hands holding him prisoner, stopping only when he realised he was at risk of dislocating his shoulder. The grip on his arms intensified before he felt rope being looped over his wrists. Knowing that he would be helpless to resist if they succeeded in binding him he slammed his head back into the face of his captor. The man swore but didn't release his grip. The rope tightened and Aramis began to panic.

Another hard blow to his stomach rendered him passive long enough for them to tie the rope. Despite the restraint he was still held upright, helpless to escape the coming storm. A series of punches split his lip open and caused the area around his right eye to swell. He spat out a mouthful of blood, noting with some perverse satisfaction that it landed on the highly polished boots of the soldier presently using him as a punching bag. The man growled and threw a vicious punch that sent Aramis into darkness.

When he roused he was lying on the floor curled up in a loose ball. His cheek was pressed against the cold stone and all he could see were the boots surrounding him.

"Wake him up," the Duke snarled.

A bucket of cold water brought him completely back to his senses before he was hauled to his feet. The Duke's face loomed in front of him.

"Are you ready to confess?"

"I am innocent." The words didn't emerge as defiantly as Aramis would have liked but it was hard to speak with his mouth so swollen and sore.

The Duke didn't look too unhappy at his denial, no doubt relishing the opportunity to inflict more pain. The punches began again, including several around the area of his right kidney. He choked back a scream, feeling tears of pain welling in his eyes. The hail of blows stopped and the Duke stepped forward to grasp his chin.

"How much more can you take?" he asked solicitously.

Aramis glared silently at the man, the only defiance of which he was capable. Then it began again. He couldn't hold back a scream when he felt one of his ribs crack and he drew in a sobbing breath. "Please. Enough."

"You will confess?"

Aramis screwed his eyes tightly shut. "No," he whispered.

"Your Grace," one of the soldier's said hesitantly. "If we continue we risk killing him."

Aramis hung weakly in the grip of the other two men while the Duke considered that.

"Very well. Fetch the other one."

"No! You gave your word that you would release him."

"That was before you proved so obdurate."

It wasn't long before Athos was dragged into the room with two new soldiers accompanying him. His glare promised retribution for the harm done to Aramis.

"Your friend continues to hide behind his lies," the Duke said. "Perhaps he will tell the truth to spare you pain."

"He is not the one who shot you."

"How loyal you are." The Duke stepped back and turned his attention to Aramis. "This is your last chance."

Aramis looked at Athos standing proudly in the grip of his guards before shaking his head.

"As you wish. You will watch the consequences of your defiance. Find something to bind his mouth."

A rolled up wad of rags was forced into his mouth and held in place by a cloth bound around his head. His complaints were reduced to an indistinct mumble as he realised there was nothing he could do to spare Athos a beating.

"When I ask you next I expect a different answer," the Duke said. "For I will not stop my men from killing your friend otherwise."

Aramis' struggles were weak and easily contained as the guards began their assault on Athos with a sickening enthusiasm. Aramis screamed into his gag as blow after blow fell. It felt like an eternity before the Duke held up his hand. Athos sagged in the grip of two guards, his head bowed.

"Do we need to continue?" the Duke asked.

Aramis, his spirit utterly broken by the sight of his friend in desperate need, shook his head.

"You are ready to admit your guilt?"

Unable to speak Aramis could only nod.

"Free his mouth."

The cloth was untied and he spat out the rags which were now bloodstained and foul. He saw Athos raise his head, a denial on his lips.

"Peace, Athos," he said tiredly. "It is time to end this. We both know I am going to die. I would not take you with me."

Gontard stepped forward. "The charge is the attempted assassination of the Duke of Savoy…a treasonous act for which the punishment is death. How do you plead, Musketeer?"

Aramis drew in a shuddering breath. "Guilty."

"You will appear before the Court tomorrow to formally record your plea. Then, at a time of the Duke's choosing, you will be taken to a place of execution and hanged by the neck until you are dead."

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Voices from the Past**

 **Chapter Seven**

"Why did you do it?"

They were back in their cell with a basin of water, some clean rags and bandages to tend to their injuries.

Aramis drew in a sharp breath as Athos bound his ribs. He immediately felt a spasm of pain in his lower back from the assault on his kidney. "I told you," he said, his entire body aching and tired. "I would have you live."

"You could retract your confession."

"What good would that do? The Duke controls the Court. I will be condemned whatever I say." He pulled his filthy blood stained shirt back over his head, gritting his teeth against the pain his movements caused. "Let me check your eye."

There was a particularly bad gash over Athos' right eye which was still trickling blood down his face. Aramis dipped a rag into the water and wrung it out before dabbing gently at the cut. "It really needs stitches but the best I can do is clean and bandage it." He folded one of the rags into a pad. "Hold this in place." When Athos complied he wound a bandage around his friend's head and tied it off. "You are sure they did no internal damage?"

"Positive."

"You should try to sleep."

"You fared worse than I did. Stop worrying about me."

Aramis lay down on his uninjured side, holding back a groan when his cracked rib protested.

"There is still hope," Athos said. "If the Duchess sent word to Paris it will reach Treville soon."

" _If_ she sent for help. Why would she bother to help two Musketeers?"

"She owes us a debt. If the Duke had found Clouzet he would have learnt that the Duchess is a French spy. Her life would have been in great danger."

"Even if help is on the way it's three days hard ride from Paris to Savoy. Who is to say that the Duke won't have me executed immediately? Besides, Treville won't start a war to save my life and the Duke won't give up his quest for revenge."

"I refuse to believe there's nothing to be done."

"Then you are deluding yourself." Aramis closed his eyes, trying to still his erratic heartbeat. He regularly faced death and found a fierce joy in battle. To end his life at the end of a rope was a whole different thing and it terrified him. To be helpless while the breath was choked from his body left him in a cold sweat. He felt the mattress dip before Athos lay down beside him.

"I will always be with you."

"I would have spared you this ordeal if I could but…I am glad you are here."

Athos' arm encircled his shoulder, giving comfort by his proximity. They stayed that way until the guards came the next morning.

"Put this on." A clean shirt was flung at him.

He fumbled awkwardly, every muscle having seized up overnight, and it dropped to the floor.

"Clumsy oaf," the guard snarled. "Pick it up."

Aramis bend down and grasped the white linen. When he tried to straighten pain lanced across his back and he staggered. Athos, who wasn't in much better shape, hurried towards him and gripped his arm.

"Are you alright?"

Aramis glanced at the guards. "I will be fine." He exchanged his gore spattered shirt for the clean one. "I am ready." The guards closed around him and he walked from the cell.

The room he was taken to was crowded with guards and courtiers. The judge, wearing a dingy white wig, sat at a table on a raised dais. The Duke sat at his right hand. Any notion of impartiality was, therefore, swiftly disabused. Aramis stood before him, trying to hide his pain and discomfort.

The judge looked at him over his glasses before turning to the Duke. "This man was put to the questioning?"

"He was."

"Administer the oath."

A clerk held out a Bible. "You swear to tell the truth?"

Aramis hesitated before placing his hand flat on the Bible. "I do."

"You stand accused of bearing false witness against the Duke in the matter of an attack on a Musketeer regiment six years ago. And, more seriously, of attempting to assassinate the Duke in Paris by shooting him in the back." The judge laid down the paper he had been reading from. "You understand these charges?"

"Yes."

There had been a gasp from the audience who were now speculating in a rising tide of voices as to his plea. The judge banged his gavel on the desk.

"There will be silence in the Court." He turned his cold gaze back to Aramis. "How do you plead?"

Aramis stared long and hard at the Duke. The temptation to plead not guilty was almost overwhelming but he knew that would only result in Athos' death. "I am guilty of the charges."

"Do you have anything to say before I pass sentence?"

"Six years ago the Duke led a raiding party which murdered twenty Musketeers. There was no provocation or excuse for his actions. He deserves to pay for his crimes."

"I see you are unrepentant," the judge said. "The sentence is death by hanging at a time and place to be appointed. May God have mercy on your soul."

The Duke stood, exuding satisfaction. "The sentence will be carried out at noon in two days. Take him back to his cell."

TMTMTM

The next two days passed slowly. They spent much of the time dosing, as the pain of their injuries was surprisingly debilitating. If they spoke at all it was of inconsequential things. When breakfast was brought on the appointed day, Aramis steeled himself to say his final good-byes.

"I want you to know that it has been an honour to serve with you," he said, his voice less than steady.

"Don't do this," Athos begged.

Aramis stood up and moved to the wall where he braced himself. "I have to. We are almost out of time. Look after Porthos for me. He will take it hard. Tell him," his voice cracked with emotion. "Tell him he was the best friend a man could have. He brought joy to my life." He surreptitiously wiped away a stray tear. "As for d'Artagnan, I am glad he came into our lives. I pray that he and Constance can have a long and happy life together."

"I will tell them."

"Now I must have your word that you will not seek vengeance. Neither are you to lose yourself in wine. You have much to offer, my friend. Don't throw it all away."

"You ask too much."

"You would refuse my last request?"

"I can refuse you nothing. I will bow down before the Duke and I will ensure that our friends do nothing rash. But, know this. I would have laid down my life to keep you safe."

"I know." He clasped his hands together to stop them shaking. "Send word to my family. If you are kind you will tell them I fell in battle. I wouldn't want them to know I died like a common criminal."

"It shall be done as you ask."

"My will leaves all my worldly possessions in equal parts to you, Porthos and d'Artagnan. There isn't much but I hope you will treasure them. Be sure to pass on my deep respect to Captain Treville. I served under many officers and he was the best and most honourable of men." There were two more people, dearer to him that his own life, that he needed to speak of. "Watch over the Queen and…my son. I regret that I will not live to see him grow up."

"I will guard them with my life," Athos promised.

"Thank you. My prayers go with you, dear brother."

"Come and sit," Athos said gently.

Aramis pushed away from the wall and joined Athos, leaning his head against his friend's shoulder and praying that when the time came he wouldn't disgrace himself. He knew he was shaking but Athos said nothing, just sat stoically and let him take this last crumb of comfort from the world.

When the cell door opened Aramis and Athos stood slowly. The cell filled with guards.

"It's time," their Captain said.

Aramis turned to Athos and gripped him in a tight hug. "Do not grieve for me, my friend. I will soon be with God." All too soon they were torn apart and he was hustled towards the door.

"Aramis! No! This is cold-blooded murder," Athos screamed. His voice was immediately cut off as the door slammed shut.

"Put your hands behind your back."

Aramis complied, his heart rate increasing when rope bound his wrists. He was led along the corridor and up a flight of stairs. From there they traversed another hallway before stepping out into a courtyard. The bright sunlight dazzled him causing him to close his eyes and lower his head.

Once his vision cleared he could see the scaffold ahead of him. There were a few guards and a handful of well-dressed spectators. He turned his head seeking out the Duke, who he found standing on a balcony. To his surprise the Duchess was with him. The Duke's look of satisfaction made him feel ill.

The hooded executioner stood to the side of the platform and beside him was a priest. Aramis felt relief that he wouldn't have to die unshriven. Then his gaze alighted on the rope and his mouth went dry.

His legs were shaking as he mounted the steps and walked over to the trapdoor which creaked as he put his weight on it. The priest approached and made the sign of the cross.

"Do you seek absolution, My Son?"

Aramis swallowed. "I do."

The priest reached over and sketched the sign of the cross on his forehead. "Te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."

Aramis felt a sense of peace descend over him. "Amen. Thank you, Father."

The priest held out a strip of cloth but Aramis shook his head. He had no wish to be blindfolded. He would look out at God's creation for as long as he could. The priest bowed his head and stepped back.

"Holy Mary Mother of God…" Aramis' lips moved of their own volition as the execution walked forward and pulled the noose over his head. "Pray for us sinners now and in the hour of our death." The knot was adjusted behind his left ear. If God was kind the drop would break his neck, gifting him with a swift death.

Having finished positioning the noose the executioner returned to the lever that would open the trapdoor beneath his feet. He rested his hand on it, waiting for the sign. Aramis stared straight ahead and took a deep breath. He could feel the rough rope scratching the sensitive skin around his neck and bile rose in his throat. With his heart hammering in his chest he waited for the oblivion of death.

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

This is the final chapter. It was fun to write a story from one point of view only and I enjoyed inflicting bodily harm on my two favourite men. Thank you for reading and for the reviews. I hope you enjoy the conclusion to the story.

 **Voices from the Past**

 **Chapter Eight**

There was the sound of a pistol shot followed by galloping hooves and shouting. Aramis looked in amazement as the courtyard filled with Musketeers, Treville at their head.

"By order of King Louis this man is to be released," Treville called.

Porthos rode forward, his pistol aimed at the executioner. "Get your hand away from that lever or I'll blow your brains out."

Aramis drew in a shuddering breath but his voice wasn't trustworthy enough for him to speak.

"Get that rope off his neck," Porthos growled. "And don't try any funny business. I'm just in the mood to shoot someone."

"This is outrageous," the Duke spluttered. "You have no right…"

"Shut up," Treville said coldly. "The King doesn't take kindly to having his men abducted and spirited out of the country."

The executioner had removed the noose and Aramis heard footsteps behind him.

"Hold still and I'll untie you," d'Artagnan said.

The rope was quickly removed and his hands fell limply to his sides. "How…?"

"We'll tell you later." D'Artagnan's hands on his shoulders encouraged him to turn round. "You look like hell and your wrists are a mess."

"You are a most welcome sight."

"Where's Athos?"

"Oh, God!" His heart lurched in his chest. "They have him locked up. He will think I'm dead."

"Alright. I'll find him." D'Artagnan pointed to one of the Duke's soldiers. "Take me to my friend."

The man looked to the Duke who nodded sullenly.

"I'm coming with you," Aramis said. He gripped the handrail on the stairs firmly as his legs wouldn't stop shaking. In fact his whole body was trembling with relief. He met Porthos at the bottom of the steps and took a minute to hug him.

"We thought we'd lost you," Porthos said.

"Almost." He grinned at Treville before turning to lead the way to the cell.

When the door was unlocked he stood in the doorway to give his eyes time to adjust to the lack of light. He finally made out the shape of Athos lying on a mattress with his back turned to the door.

"Athos!" He quickly strode across the room, concerned by the lack of reaction. "Athos. Treville is here with the Musketeers. We are free."

"Aramis?" Athos spoke tentatively as if he expected to find this was all a dream. He rolled over and peered up. "You're not dead." He sat up before rising to his feet and gripping Aramis' shoulders. "I don't understand."

D'Artagnan looked around to ensure they were alone. "The Duchess sent a message to Captain Treville. He went to the King. Louis wasn't happy and ordered a troop of Musketeers to go to Savoy. We rode day and night, afraid that we would be too late."

"You nearly were." Aramis shuddered at the memory of how close he had come to death. "It is a wonder that the King would take the chance on alienating Savoy just to ensure our safety."

"He took this as an act of aggression against France. I believe he gave Treville some very specific instructions as to what to say to the Duke. Now, come, let us get out of here."

They walked back into the sunlit courtyard together and joined Porthos who was watching Treville and the Duke.

"I don't know what they Captain is sayin' to him but the Duke doesn't like it," Porthos said after clasping hands with Athos.

Treville was standing very close to the Duke, talking and jabbing a finger into the Duke's chest. The Duchess had retreated a few feet away and when she caught Athos' eyes, he bowed to her. She gave the barest nod in response before returning her attention to her husband.

"Are you two alright?" Porthos asked.

"The Duke was rather insistent on a confession," Aramis said. "But no lasting damage was done." He felt weak with relief and swayed slightly as the blood drained from his head. Porthos' arm was immediately around his waist, supporting him. "I believe I need to sit down."

He collapsed onto one of the steps leading to the gallows and lowered his head, breathing shallowly and too fast. He recognised the signs of shock.

"Will you be able to ride?" d'Artagnan asked. "I don't think Treville wants to linger here."

"I have no wish to remain here either," Aramis said. He was feeling decidedly dizzy but was confident that he would recover with a few minutes rest. Almost immediately he was back on his unsteady legs when Treville walked over to join them. "Captain."

"Aramis. Athos. It's good to see you both."

"What did you say to the Duke?" Athos asked curiously.

"The King has threatened to halve the monies paid to Savoy."

"Won't that just drive him into the arms of Spain?" Aramis asked.

"The Duke knows now that the King has agents in Savoy. If there is even a hint that he is talking to the Spanish Louis will send in the troops and the Duke will be deposed. The King has also made it clear that he won't tolerate another attack on the Musketeers."

"I'm surprised the King would risk an international incident to save us."

"It wasn't entirely unselfish of him, Athos. Tensions are continuing to rise in Paris. Louis would love an excuse to annex Savoy and better protect his border." Treville looked at them critically. "You have been ill-used. What are your injuries?"

"They are as you see. Aramis has a cracked rib and back pain. I have cuts and bruises, nothing more."

"If you need time to recover it will have to be on the road. The Duke has ordered us to leave immediately."

"I have no wish to stay." Aramis glanced at the balcony but the Duke had gone. He sat down again almost involuntarily to wait while the horses were readied.

"So the Duke's just goin' to get away with what he did?" Porthos asked angrily.

"There is a limit to King Louis' influence. This is a sovereign nation. Technically he has no authority here."

"There has to be something we can do, Captain," d'Artagnan said.

"Just be thankful that we arrived in time to save Aramis' life." Treville walked off to issue the orders necessary for them to leave.

"Is he alright?" Porthos was trying to keep his voice down but the words still reached Aramis' ears.

"The Duke was cruel. We camped one night in the glade where the massacre happened."

"I'll kill him!" Porthos growled.

Aramis stood up weakly and joined them. "It's alright, my friend. Athos' presence helped to chase away the voices from the past. I have faced my fears and emerged intact and I am stronger for it."

Although neither Porthos nor d'Artagnan looked particularly convinced neither spoke their doubts aloud.

"You and the Captain seem to be getting along better," Athos observed.

"He's promised me answers about my father."

"I'm happy for you."

"What's important now is gettin' you two back to Paris. Who grabbed you anyway?"

Aramis almost shuddered at the memory. "It was Bastian Hebert and his men."

Porthos grinned wolfishly. "Now him we can take care of."

"It's time to go," Treville called.

Porthos stayed close to Aramis' side until he was mounted. It would be an unpleasant ride and, he suspected, a slow one. Everyone was tired. Treville and his men had covered the distance from Paris to Savoy in less than three days which showed a fierce dedication. There was nothing Aramis could say that would adequately convey his gratitude. They formed up with him and Athos safely ensconced near the centre of the pack flanked by their brothers. Aramis rode away without a backward glance. He would never forget those of his comrades who died on that fateful long-ago night, but as long as he had his brothers he would endure.

They had ridden for no more than two hours before Treville called a halt. "We'll make camp here."

They had taken a route well north-east of the glade where the massacre had taken place so Aramis had no fears of bad dreams troubling his sleep. He was grateful for the respite as his ribs and back had become more troublesome. Not that he would ever admit that to the Captain. He dismounted stiffly and led his horse to a nearby stream to drink. When he went to unsaddle the animal Porthos was there gently pushing him out of the way. He accepted the assistance with good grace and went to seek out Treville.

"I owe you my life," he said.

"Did you ever doubt that we would come for you?"

"In all honesty I never expected the King to give you leave and we weren't even certain that the Duchess had sent word." He leaned wearily against a tree. "This must be hard for you too."

"Nothing to do with the Duke of Savoy is easy," Treville answered, failing to accept the opening that Aramis had just offered to him.

"Have you been back to Savoy since...?" He found that he was unable to finish the question when he saw the naked sorrow in Treville's eyes.

"Once, a couple of years ago. It doesn't get any easier."

"Then let us pray that neither of us has cause to return in the future."

"You should rest," Treville said. "You have been through a traumatic experience as has Athos. Exhaustion is understandable."

Aramis nodded, mentally and physically drained by the events of the last few weeks. "Thank you, Captain." He rejoined his friends, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Porthos around the fire and it wasn't long before sleep claimed him.

TMTMTM

It was two weeks before Aramis and Athos were cleared for duty and they only had one thought on their minds. Whenever he had been off duty Porthos had loitered around The Falcon out of uniform, watching Bastian Hebert.

"He's flush with coin," Porthos reported. "The Duke must 'ave paid him well for his services."

"How many men does he have?" Athos asked.

"They come and go but there's rarely less than half a dozen hangin' around him."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Athos said. "We can deal with that number of ruffians."

Aramis finished cleaning his pistols and loaded them carefully before attaching them to his belt. "I want him to pay for what he did," he said. "A quick death is too easy for him."

"We'll do our best to take him alive but he might not give us the chance," d'Artagnan said.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Athos looked at him with concern.

"I've waited too long already. Are you coming?"

They left the garrison and walked in silence along the main thoroughfare before turning off into an interconnected series of alleys which led to the part of town where The Falcon was situated. A feeling of deep anger swept over Aramis when he thought of all the damage Hebert had done to him and Athos. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, his body trembling with the need for action.

Porthos led the way into the tavern and continued on towards the table where Hebert sat surrounded by his men. Aramis and Athos stayed in the shadows by the door while d'Artagnan followed Porthos to watch his back.

"I want a word with you," Porthos bellowed.

Hebert looked up and must have seen Porthos' pauldron because a fleeting look of fear crossed his face. "What's a Musketeer doing here?"

Two of his men stood up and gripped the knives at their waists.

"You kidnapped two of my brothers and handed them over to the Duke of Savoy."

"You have no proof of that," Hebert said smugly.

Aramis and Athos walked out of the shadows and Hebert's face drained of colour. He frantically gestured to his men to block the way, stood up and began to edge backwards.

Porthos growled and launched himself at the man nearest to him, knocking him to the ground. Aramis quickened his pace, at the same time as drawing his sword. While the other three kept Hebert's men occupied he circled round to face his foe. Hebert had drawn a long knife which he held threateningly in front of him.

"How did you escape?" he asked.

"We have many friends and they came for us." Aramis prowled towards Hebert who continued to back away. "Surrender and face justice."

Herbert lashed out with his knife and Aramis knocked it aside.

"You will pay for your crimes and this time you won't be able to bribe your way out of prison. You are to be confined to the cells under the Louvre and you will be brought before the King to answer for your actions."

"Then you might as well try and kill me now because we both know he'll condemn me to death. I'd rather die by the sword than face the noose."

"Yet you had no trouble condemning me to that fate." Aramis feinted left and then lunged, slashing Hebert's left arm before withdrawing.

The sounds of fighting around them was gradually lessening and Aramis sensed a presence at his side. Athos extended his rapier towards Hebert.

"It would be my pleasure to kill you," he said. "However, Aramis wants to see justice done."

They moved in tandem towards their quarry who backed up and collided with a table. Quicker than thought Aramis rushed forwards and engaged Hebert who fought desperately to retain a hold on his knife. With a twist of his wrist Aramis send it spinning away and then his sword was resting against Hebert's chest.

Porthos joined him, holding out a set of shackles. "Be my guest," he said.

Aramis sheathed his sword and locked the shackles around Hebert's wrists with more than a hint of satisfaction. He stood watching Porthos herd the man towards the door and knew that his ordeal was finally over.

The End


End file.
